The Fire In Those Eyes
by strawberryfinn
Summary: Scott Summer's story. How was he able to become an Xman?
1. Who Was Scott Summers?

**Note**: I do not own _X-Men _or Scott Summers. I do own Alex and Brian. I hope you enjoy.

_The Fire in those Eyes_

_Part 1: Hiding from the Fire_ (Age 15-16)

Prologue: Who was Scott Summers?

Scott Summers had the perfect life. At 15, he was on the top. Athletic, smart, polite, popular. Nobody didn't like him.

He had a family who loved him: parents who he idolized, and a twelve-year-old brother—Alex—who adored him. His family wasn't the richest, but they had an average life. Samuel Summers, his father, was a doctor—dentist, as a matter of fact—and his mother, Charlene, taught at a university. They were never too busy to help him, and his brother was always eager as well.

At school, he was the MVP on the basketball team, and third best on the soccer team. He got A's and maybe an occasional B. He was polite to all his friends and teachers, which earned him extra points. Scott never said anything bad about anybody; and nobody said anything mean about him. That's why Scott had so many friends.

His best friend, Brian Madden, would die for him, as will be revealed literally, later. Brian wasn't the most well-liked of the students, but Scott didn't seem to care. He loved and trusted Brian like a brother, and Brian trusted him in the same way.

As you can see, Scott had everything he needed.

But one day, all he knew, and all he loved, was taken away from him.

Just because of one thing.

One. Thing.

It changed him forever.

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	2. Gifts and Curses

Chapter 1: Gifts and Curses

8:47 A.M.—NYCH (New York City High)—2nd period—Corridor

"Scott," said a nervous voice. "Are you ok, man?"

The voice came from a stocky, blonde boy, his forehead furrowed in worry. His pale blue eyes, wide open in anxiety, stared out at his best friend, Scott Summers, who was leaning, his head against his locker, his eyes closed.

"Do you want a Tylenol or something?"

"No," answered Scott without opening his eyes. "I got one this morning. Just a headache. I'll be ok. Thanks, though, Brian."

Would he, though? This was the most pain he had felt since he'd broken his leg, after a soccer defeat, by kicking a bleacher. Scott almost smiled at the memory, but then a flash of pain hit again, and instead, he let out a low moan. He felt as if there was a building power against his eyes, desperately wanting to escape.

He'd had the headache this morning. But it had started out like any other…

7:26 A.M.—NYC—The Summers Residence (Earlier that morning)

Scott groaned and pulled his covers back over his head as his mom called through the door, "Wake up, Scott! Come down for breakfast!"

He opened his eyes and breathed quietly, wondering how long he could stay under the blankets before his mom came in. Looking at his digital watch, he smiled easily as the numbers blinked. 58… 59… there, he'd made it for a minute. 1… 2…

Right then, his mother barged in, grabbed one of his feet, sticking out and completely vulnerable, and yanked. Scott came tumbling out of bed, and with a crash, the back of his head collided with one of the bedposts.

A surge of pain flashed through him, overwhelming his entire body. Gasping in agony, Scott rocked back and forth, writhing, and then, all of the sudden, it was gone.

"Scott, honey," his mother asked, worried. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Scott said, his breathing settling to its normal pace.

"Ok," his mother answered in relief. "Change and come down then, ok?"

"Yeah," said Scott, distracted.

After Mrs. Summers had left the room, Scott stood in front of his mirror, next to his closet. Staring at his reflection, he studied himself. Same longish brown hair, same lanky body, same as any other day.

Yet, why did he feel so different? Lifting away his long bangs, he stepped closer to the mirror to examine his eyes.

Startled, he jumped back. His eyes seemed to possess some sort of power… they were red, very red…

He leaned closer again and blinked. Opening his eyes, he saw that they were normal again. The light brown and slightly hazel irises and the pitch black pupils.

_I must have been dreaming._

He thought this over and over again. Trying to forget about it, he pulled on a gray T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a black sweater with a zipper down the front. Stuffing his feet into his tennis shoes, he went into the bathroom, grabbed a Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and went downstairs.

Nothing had changed… had it?

Or had _he_?

8:51 A.M.—NYCH—2nd period—Boy's bathroom

Scott closed his eyes, lifting the cold tap water with his hands and soothing his face. Brian was waiting outside, he knew, and class had already started.

Sighing again, he struggled to get rid of the pain.

The sense of power came again, pushing him. He needed to open his eyes. He did.

In that instant, Scott Summers changed forever.

Scott stood there for a minute, in horrified fascination as red lasers shot from his eyes and destroyed the bathroom door, through Brian, to the lockers and…

Through Brian?

Scott turned and saw his best friend slumped on the floor. Suddenly, he realized the situation and slammed his eyes shut. The destruction stopped. He opened his eyes again, but no lasers came up this time. It seemed as though the power just came and went.

"BRIAN!" he hysterically ran up, and stared, astounded at his friend.

His friend was white, pale, and clearly dead. Scott sobbed, and grabbed onto his friend, rocking him back and forth.

"Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me," he begged, choking through his tears. "I'm so sorry… what have I done? What happened to me?"

Students were staring, astounded, at Scott Summers holding a limp Brian in his arms. Several kids were whispering.

"Who did it?" "Summers did." "Lasers… shot out of his eyes…" "He's a _mutant?_" "No, it can't be, not Scott…" "He _is_ a mutant…" "What's a mutant?" "Don't you watch the news?" "Kids… that get weird powers at the teen years…" "God, he is a mutant…" "Stay away from him, he could kill you…" "Did you see what he did to that door?" "The door? What about his friend?" "Get away… get away… they're supposed to be dangerous…" "They go crazy." "Get away from Scott—he's a mutant…"

Slowly, the other kids backed away, and then broke into a sprint, afraid to be the next victim, while Scott just cried broken sobs. A teacher came up to him nervously, and asked him to join him for a talk—and Scott ran.

He ran from the death of his friend, he ran from the destruction, he ran from his power.

He ran home.

_My family will accept me,_ he thought. _They'll tell me what to do._

Inspired by this thought, he ran as fast as he could, back to his house.

9:14—NYC—The Summers' Residence (later that morning)

Scott stumbled through the door, his eyes red from crying, wheezing—seeing that he had sprinted about three miles back to his house. He tried to erase the picture of Brian, his eyes unseeing, his body limp, but it kept on coming back.

His mom stood up, worried. "Scott? Are you ok?"

His dad put down the newspaper. He hadn't gone to work yet. Alex was sitting at the table. He had the day off.

"I…" Scott breathed. "I…"

"What's going on?" his father demanded, standing up. Scott opened his eyes to meet his father's gaze.

That was when the lasers came out. They hit his father, his mother, his brother. Destroying everything in sight.

They'd destroyed his life. This new power. Was it a gift? Or a curse?

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